


Protection

by churkey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Stiles pushes himself out of the pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churkey/pseuds/churkey
Summary: Stiles has something to prove. He just doesn't know to whom. Or why.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 571





	Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd!
> 
> Story is kind of a mess but I'm tired of looking at it. I almost deleted that long section where Stiles ponders pack dynamics but left it in because, what the hell?

Stiles didn’t realize how much he counted on and _needed_ Derek’s protection until the day it was gone.

And he had no one but himself to blame for the cold, empty dread he was currently experiencing. Because he was alone and pretty sure he was about to die.

Alone.

It fucking sucked.

* * *

Derek was growling and yelling at Stiles about being reckless. Stiles wasn’t really listening since he’d heard it all before. Considering that Stiles had, yet again, come through with some critical information and saved the day, Stiles wasn’t sure why Derek even bothered anymore.

“Stiles! Are you even listening?” Derek growled.

“No, not really. I mean, I’ve heard this all before. You think I, as the frail and weak human, should stay far, far away from the action. Even though you come to me for research and, like today, half the time I’m saving your ass anyway. Same song and dance. It’s a little boring, now, don’t you think? Because I’m not going to stop protecting my friends. Not when I can help. Not when I’m usually right,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re right…”

Stiles whooped with glee, “This is a day that’ll go down in history. Derek Hale just admitted that I’m right! Ha!”

“…it is boring, Stiles. You win. You don’t want my protection? Fine. Do whatever you want,” Derek just turned and walked away.

Stiles was more than a little stunned. Because, what? Had Derek finally realized that Stiles could take care of himself? Or that he might be the alpha, but he wasn’t the boss of Stiles?

Did this mean Derek wouldn’t be trying to keep him out of stuff? Wouldn’t yell at him anymore?

_Awesome_.

* * *

Turns out that it wasn’t actually awesome. It didn’t take long for Stiles to realize that while _something_ had changed, he didn’t actually know what it was. And it was looking, more and more like something had changed for the _worse_.

Derek wasn’t excluding him from stuff but he wasn’t including him either. He hadn’t asked for research in a while. Stiles still found out about stuff, did the research, and told Derek. But half the time Derek already had the answer. Another part of the time Derek had already taken care of the problem.

Still, Stiles did his thing. Except that after a fight was done, Derek didn’t even check on Stiles. Didn’t stop to yell at Stiles for being reckless. He just checked in with the betas and left.

It was super weird and Stiles couldn’t quite place his finger on why it bothered him. Derek wasn’t unfriendly. Stiles might even think that Derek was _friendlier_ now. Except that it was in a kind of distant, cold way. Derek didn’t talk to him – Stiles hadn’t thought Derek talked to him at all until he actually stopped. Didn’t respond to any of Stiles’ jokes. Didn’t engage in what Stiles liked to think of as their banter.

Stiles was happy that he wasn’t being growled or yelled at. But he also found Derek’s behaviour disquieting.

It wasn’t until Stiles saw Derek interacting with Chris Argent that he finally understood. Derek was treating _him_ like he treated Chris. Something in that last confrontation had somehow put Stiles in the same group as Chris.

It wasn’t a good feeling.

* * *

“Derek, why are you treating me like Chris Argent?” Stiles demanded after a pack meeting.

“What.”

“Okay. Learn to inflect. But you’re treating me like Chris. Like, like, I don’t know!” Stiles was flailing his arms in exasperation.

“You mean treating you like an ally?” Derek raised a brow.

“Um… yes? No. How can you treat me like an ally if I’m part of the pack?”

“You aren’t pack.”

“Excuse you? Since when? After everything I’ve done, you’re kicking me out?” Stiles was full of righteous indignation.

“I can’t kick someone out who doesn’t want to be _in_ the pack.”

“When did I ever say that? Of course, I want to be in the pack!”

“You’re the one who refused my protection. You also don’t accept me as alpha. If I’m not your alpha, how can you be pack?”

“Wait, you’re saying that just because I don’t follow your, to be quite honest, terrible orders I can’t be pack? That wanting to help my friends means that I can’t be in the pack?”

“Yes.”

“How does that even make sense?”

“I’m not sure what the problem is. You’re a valued ally. More so than Chris. Am I stopping you from helping your friends? I thought this is what you wanted.”

Stiles couldn’t quite figure out how to answer that. It _is_ what he’d wanted. He’d wanted Derek to stop yelling at him for helping. Derek had. Hell, Derek had stopped trying to stop Stiles from helping entirely. It was what he wanted…

Except he hadn’t wanted it like _this_.

“Yeah, I guess. But why can’t it be like this with me in the pack?”

Derek sighed wearily, “Stiles, this is the decision _you_ made. You think I’m a bad alpha? That my decisions and orders are terrible? You don’t want to listen to me? Fine. But you literally cannot be in a pack if you don’t accept the alpha.”

“Okay… but why not just be a better alpha? Why not make better decisions?”

“Don’t you mean decisions that you agree with? A better alpha according to _your_ standards? Even now, in this, you challenge and argue with me. It’s funny how your hubris knows no bounds.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

"Just that you think, as a human, you know better than me, a born wolf. That you think some time on google and reading a few books makes you an expert on my entire life. On an entire world that you didn’t even know existed a year ago.

“Anyway, I’m done with this conversation. I do want you in my pack, I just wish you wanted to be in it too.”

Stiles watched as Derek left. He honestly had no idea what to say.

He and Derek had just had the longest and least growly conversations they’d ever had.

He just didn’t know…

* * *

It all still felt off. He probably could’ve understood what he was feeling if Derek had just pushed him out or away. But all the betas still talked to him. They were friendly and they all hung out. There were occasional moments where it was clear that there was some sort of pack business he didn’t know about but it didn’t seem to be anything major. Or at least he didn’t think it was.

Derek let him participate and contribute as much as he wanted. Or didn’t want. When he needed help he always _asked_ , when he used to just demanded. Derek didn’t give him orders or try to keep him out of fights.

It was kind of a terrible feeling because this _was_ what he had wanted. He’d wanted Derek to treat him like an equal. Like a person who could make their own decisions. It was clear that Derek respected and valued him. It was strange how it was a lot easier to see with this weird distance.

Stiles was getting a slight suspicion that his feelings of inadequacy and insecurity might’ve been more about _him_ and less about how Derek or the pack treated him. Starting to understand that Derek’s growling and orders were because he _cared_. Stiles didn’t think it was the most constructive way to show it but… he also seemed to be the only person really bothered by it. Then again, he was really the only human who might’ve been considered part of the pack. It was becoming clear that Derek had treated Stiles like a beta.

It was a weird dichotomy. Before Derek had treated Stiles like a beta and it had aggravated Stiles because he wanted to be treated like an equal. Now he was being treated like an equal and he was _still_ unsatisfied. He wasn’t sure what he even wanted at this point.

He _was_ sure that he didn’t like not having Derek’s attention or care. Or the sense of belonging he’d had but was now missing, even though not much had actually changed.

Stiles hadn’t been super sure of his place in the pack (whether or not he was even _in_ the pack). Like, Scott was his bro and would always be a priority for Stiles. But Stiles was nosy and liked to be involved in a way Scott didn’t. Scott didn’t care that Derek and his pack treated him like an outsider. That was what Scott wanted. Stiles was becoming sure that he didn’t want it to be like this.

Stiles liked to think of himself as the bridge between Scott and the pack. Which he still was but… he hadn’t _known_ Derek considered him pack. Not really. He’d been sure that he was useful and contributed _something_ but… he wasn’t sure. Especially since he’d apparently rejected him as alpha, Derek seemed to be doing his own research.

He’d apparently been wrong to think that Derek asked for (demanded, really) Stiles’s help because he couldn’t do the research himself. And, sure, Stiles was still a _better_ researcher than Derek, but Derek was capable enough. It made Stiles think a lot more about the fact that Derek had been born into the supernatural. That didn’t mean, necessarily, that he knew all about it. Lots of born humans knew next to nothing about their own history and culture. But that didn’t seem to be the case with Derek. Who apparently knew enough to be competent, even if he wasn’t awesome at it like Stiles.

So why ask Stiles all the time? Because he was lazy? But that really didn’t fit in with his character. He probably had asked Stiles because Stiles was better at it. It had given Stiles a role and place in the pack. And probably freed up Derek to do other important Alpha Things. Maybe it was a whole division of labour thing. The pack worked more efficiently if each member focused or specialized in what they were good at. Or what was needed.

Stiles felt like he was on the verge of understanding something important. He didn’t know why, but he’d never really spent much time thinking about what a pack _was_. Especially with sentient beings. He knew that most people’s concept of a ‘real’ wolf pack was based on shitty research done a long while ago. And while it looked like, on the surface, werewolf packs emulated that misconceived pack structure more closely than wolves in the wild, was there any reason to think it was accurate for werewolves?

So what did he actually _know_ about werewolf packs?

  1. Packs needed an alpha. Alphas were denoted by red eyes and were the only ones whose bite could turn people.
  2. Packs needed at least one beta, since – after the fire – Derek had been Laura’s only beta.
  3. Alphas _were_ the leaders of the pack.
  4. Betas had to submit to the alpha to be in the pack.
  5. Their authority, if used for ill, _could_ be resisted, like Scott had with Peter.
  6. Betas could also choose to leave, like Erica and Boyd had wanted to.
  7. Therefore, there was an element of _choice_ when submitting to an alpha. Alphas couldn’t force submission – at least not permanently. Betas could rescind their submission if they wanted.
  8. The more betas in a pack, the stronger the Alpha (Stiles wasn’t sure but he guessed that the entire pack would be stronger).



Stiles was particularly interested in that last point since it was one of the major reasons why Scott didn’t like Derek and didn’t want to be in his pack. Why he thought Derek was power-hungry. Except Derek had never said _how_ betas contributed to the pack’s power. Sure, Stiles could tell it was some kind of mystical thing where they were literally stronger than omegas. But Scott proved that it was possible to be a strong omega.

He suddenly realized that while Derek might’ve gained power in turning Boyd, Erica, and Isaac; he’d given them all power too. And that he trained them to make them stronger. He’d also let Boyd and Erica leave, when they’d wanted to. Not the actions of a person who craved power over others.

But all of that was the more supernatural side of things. Maybe there was also a more mundane way that larger packs were stronger. All of human history was a testament to the idea that divisions of labour and working cooperatively were essential for ensuring a successful community. That doing so meant that each individual was better off than they’d be if they all tried to do everything on their own.

Stiles thought he finally understood what Derek had been saying. Stiles couldn’t be in the pack because he refused to submit to Derek. He never listened. He always challenged Derek. He basically did whatever he wanted. Sure, he did what he thought was best. What he thought was necessary to keep the pack safe. He was also, he was sure, often right.

But he couldn’t behave like that and be in the pack. Even if Derek made allowances for his humanity (and Stiles could recognize that he really _had_ ), Stiles could only push so far until he stumbled right out of the pack.

And it _was_ a choice he’d made. Because he did think that Derek made a lot of terrible decisions. Didn’t think that Derek was all that great of a leader. Stiles did wonder, though, if Derek also had a point about this. He wanted Derek to lead in the way _he_ thought was best. Except that he had no real good example of what a good alpha looked like. Derek, at least, had his mom. For all Stiles knew, Derek was trying to follow her example.

Stiles was also starting to realize that, for all he’d talked about open communication and working together, he’d never really tried to work _with_ Derek. He’d thought their banter was totally about arguing and whatever, but was really just him challenging Derek. Usually in front of his pack. Never actually tried to _talk_ to Derek about his leadership style. Just openly mocked him and then did whatever he wanted.

Thinking about all of it from this angle, Stiles wasn’t actually sure why Derek had put up with it. Stiles couldn’t even say that Derek had gotten fed up with him (like most people not Scott or his dad) always seemed to. _Stiles_ was the one who’d pushed so hard, he’d pushed himself right out of the pack.

He just wasn’t sure what he should do about all of this.

* * *

It was weeks later and Stiles was no closer to figuring out what to do about Derek and the pack.

It was hard because he _liked_ the feeling of respect he got from Derek. Liked not being told what to do.

Except he also desperately missed the feeling of belonging he’d had. He still had Scott and that was great… but there was a reason he’d stayed on the lacrosse team despite never playing. For all that he complained, he actually enjoyed being part of a team. Feeling like he belonged.

It soothed a deep loneliness he’d had since his mom died. Scott used to soothe a lot of that away but Scott had other friends. Had Allison. They still spent a lot of time together but it wasn’t as much. And Stiles couldn’t complain. Didn’t _want_ to complain, since he wanted Scott to be happy.

He’d thrown himself so hard into the supernatural and pack stuff because it gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he craved.

For the first time in a really long time he felt like a child. Like one of those spoiled kids who had a tantrum over some other kid playing with a toy but, after getting the toy, wasn’t interested anymore.

Which probably explained why he was out in the woods looking into something strange. Alone. Without telling anyone.

He was annoyed and frustrated because, again, he’d found out about the recent problem a week after everyone else. Derek was still trying to solve problems on his own. It was irritating because he’d been trying for a week and Stiles was pretty sure he’d figured it out in the past day.

So he was out here trying to confirm his theory before talking to Derek. Because he no longer felt like he had anyone he could call for these situations. Scott was busy and while he knew Derek would help if he asked, Stiles hated asking for help.

He’d told Derek over and over that he could take care of himself and he could. He _would_.

* * *

It was a nice sentiment that didn’t amount to much when the omega pounced out of the shadows and tore up his side and leg.

Which meant that Stiles had been right about it’s hiding place. So that’s another point for Stilinski.

It also meant that Stiles was probably bleeding out on the forest floor. His leg was too fucked up for him to walk. And everything _hurt_ so much.

The omega hadn’t stuck around for long. Just pounced, tore him up, and ran away.

Exactly fitting the pattern of the recent ‘animal attacks’.

Stiles was scared.

No one knew he was out here.

He was scared in a way that none of the previous life-threatening situations had made him. For all the other ones, he hadn’t been _alone_. Even in Gerard’s basement, he’d had company. Company that couldn’t help him and no one else knew where he was, but he hadn’t been alone.

He wasn’t a damsel in distress. He didn’t wait around for Derek to save him.

Except… a small part of him counted on Derek to be there when he needed him. As backup. As the person who actually needed saving. But _there_.

It was a strange realization to have, as his blood soaked into the ground.

He’d done everything he could after his mom died to be as independent as possible. To be strong so he could take care of his dad. So he could support Scott.

It meant that, deep down, he didn’t see either of them as people he could lean on. People he could count on.

This fierce independence was why he’d butted heads with Derek.

Maybe it’d been easier for a small part of him to trust Derek in a way he didn’t trust anyone else.

Derek had been a stranger. Stiles had never once expected him to somehow be more steady than his dad or Scott.

Except Derek kept showing up. Kept helping when he had no reason to.

Stiles had come to trust and rely on that.

Then he’d thrown it in Derek’s face. Told him that he didn’t need his protection. Didn’t need _Derek_.

When it turns out that Derek was the only person Stiles might actually allow himself to need.

More importantly, was the person Stiles wanted most. _Right now_. In the moment he was dying all Stiles could think about was Derek.

Sure. He was thinking about his dad and Scott. About how he’d miss them. And how they’d miss him.

But he didn’t want either of them to be holding him as he died.

No. He just wanted Derek.

* * *

Stiles didn’t die. Heck, he didn’t even almost die alone since Derek – and his pack – showed up and saved him.

Because even though he did figure out stuff faster, Derek _was_ competent. So he’d managed to figure out where the omega was just in time to save Stiles’ life.

Stiles’ last memory before he passed out was the well of relief he’d felt seeing Derek’s burning red eyes. The strong arms lifting him up. That sense of peace and safety because, pack or not, he _knew_ that Derek would help him.

Somehow, along the way, Derek had become his safety net. And it had been a really long time since he trusted anyone to catch him when he fell. No one since his mom died.

His dad had been useless after she died and he’d learned to take care of and rely on himself. Scott had been there and helped, but Stiles had already spent too long being the one who took care of Scott for him to entirely lean on him.

Scott was his brother, sure. But his own dad had shown him that while family was family, that didn’t mean you could count on them. Or that they had to care as much for you as you did for them.

He loved his dad and Scott. Always would. It didn’t mean he relied on them to catch him.

But he trusted Derek would.

He had a lot of time to think in his hospital room. Normally, he’d be climbing the walls to get out but he actually appreciated the time to himself. Time to just sit and really think about his life.

The drugs and the fact that his injuries were really serious probably had something to do with it too.

He’d only got torn up. Except that the tears in his leg had been _deep_. Like, tear up his muscles deep. Like he was lucky no arteries had been cut and he hadn’t bled out in seconds. Made with jagged claws that were pretty much guaranteed to scar. He had a lot of stitches and had to keep his leg immobile for at least a few weeks or risk damaging it even further. At this point, they weren’t sure how it might affect his mobility. He could heal up nicely and be more or less fine. Or the scarring could be deep and impact his leg’s movement. The less he moved his leg and let it heal, the better the prognosis.

For once in his life, he was _listening_ and not insisting that he was fine and trying to push himself. The prospect of not being able to walk properly terrified him. He’d also been himself and done a ton of research.

If he wanted to give his leg the best chance, now was _not_ the time for him to push his limits as a way to prove he wasn’t the weak, breakable human.

Because, as it turns out, he _was_ a breakable human. Not weak. No. He knew that. But he was realizing just how childish he’d been behaving.

What was he trying to prove? Who was he trying to prove it to?

He was exhausted. To his very bones, he was _tired_. Tired of having to take care of himself _and_ those he loved (Dad, Scott). Tired of feeling alone. Tired of pushing people away.

Only his dad and Scott had visited him in the hospital multiple times. Derek’s pack had each dropped by but only once. Even Derek one night. But his dad and Scott never stayed for long. His dad always having to work and Scott being busy with Allison.

He couldn’t even blame them, not really. A part of him knew they’d spend more time if he asked. He also knew that they didn’t stay or visit more often because he’d spent _years_ telling them he was fine and could take care of himself. Years putting their needs before his own.

Even now, he was doing the same. New epiphanies aside, it wasn’t like he could change a lifetime of behaviour overnight. So he was still telling them he was fine and grinning fake smiles. A bitter part of him thought that Scott should be able to hear the lie.

Then again, even if it wasn’t true, could Scott hear the lie when he was lying to himself?

Worse, his defensiveness in the past had trained them not to push. Stiles was stubborn. The whole situation with Derek and the pack was example enough that he didn’t react well to people suggesting he needed help. Or that he couldn’t take care of himself.

Again, what did he have to prove? He _knew_ he could take care of himself. Knew that he could handle his injury and recovery on his own. He knew it. Apparently his dad and Scott believed it too.

Great. He knew and everyone knew he could take care of himself. That he wasn’t weak or helpless.

And what had that got him?

Sitting alone in a hospital room.

Maybe he could’ve been fine like this before the supernatural. Family meant something to him. Always would. But of all the things it meant to him, safety and support weren’t amongst them. Family could drink itself to sleep every night instead of taking care of a boy who needed his dad after losing his mom.

Pack, though? He liked the idea of it. Liked the example Derek set for what it meant. Maybe Derek wasn’t the best alpha. Maybe the pack wasn’t as great as it could be. But it was created during supernatural conflicts. They hadn’t had all that much _time_ to build the pack into something truly epic and awesome.

Derek hadn’t had time to do more than prepare his betas for conflict and teach them to survive. But he was succeeding on that level. They _were_ surviving and they were doing it together. Hell, they were doing more than merely surviving since they were also protecting the town. And, Stiles suddenly realized, they were _winning_.

Stiles thought about Derek picking him up. Of Derek saving him, again. Of Derek trying his hardest to protect Stiles and everyone else. Even when Stiles himself thought he was the villain and had advocated killing him. Or threatened to leave him to die on the side of the road. Sure, Stiles hadn’t and had helped and saved Derek just as much.

Stiles liked words. He talked a lot. Read a lot. Derek was pretty much the opposite.

People always said that actions speak louder than words.

If Stiles ignored the words they’d said to each other. The threats and other stuff. If he focused on Derek’s actions (and his own). What did they say?

To Stiles, it said _pack_. And he knew it said the same thing to Derek.

* * *

Stiles made his way to Derek as soon as he could.

It’d been weeks since he’d last seen him. Stiles was _finally_ at the point where he could move around on crutches, as long as he didn’t push his leg too much. Most of the stitches were out but he needed some serious physical therapy. Moving too fast or in the wrong way could tear up his muscles more.

He could drive, though. Well, he could drive an automatic car so it wasn’t his beloved jeep. It’d been his left leg that got torn up.

After spending most of his recovery time struggling to take care of himself, he was even more determined to join the pack.

He’d spent the time thinking about his life and choices. Observing the consequences. He didn’t have much help in his recovery because he hadn’t asked and his dad and Scott assumed he’d be fine.

Stiles had been so stubborn for so long, that they didn’t even try to take care of him anymore. He’d worn them down to the point that they didn’t even think to put in the effort. All because he’d fought them every time they’d tried to help, no matter how small.

He’d watched the dishes and laundry pile up. The house get messier because taking care of himself had taken _all_ of his energy. His dad apparently, on top of assuming Stiles could take care of himself, had expected him to keep up with the chores. To keep taking care of his dad.

Stiles always thought his selflessness and willingness to take care of others, even if it hurt himself was one of his best qualities. And maybe it was.

At least until he was faced with the very direct and visceral choice: take care of his dad and possibly fucking up his leg for life or take care of himself. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t do both.

He’d never had to choose before.

Maybe he was selfish, since he’d chosen to take care of himself. He also could’ve asked for help. He might’ve… if he could trust them to help.

Stiles likes to think he’d have asked Derek for help, now that he was aware that he actually trusted Derek to help. But Derek wasn’t his alpha and it didn’t feel right. He’d also needed the time to work on his automatic refusal when help was offered. On overcoming his pride so that he could _accept_ and _ask_ for help.

Not a finished project.

But he’d done enough that he could do what he was doing now.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles called out.

Derek, drama queen that he was, appeared suddenly at the corner of Stiles’ vision. Stiles turned and just caught Derek’s aborted move to help him, since he wasn’t steady on his feet.

“Stiles.”

“So… first off, I’m sorry. I’ve never given you enough credit and I’ve been pretty shitty. I hope you still have a place for me, since I’m ready to submit and accept you as my alpha,” Stiles said and he bared his throat.

The sure and steady beat of his heart must’ve convinced Derek because he was suddenly _right there_ cupping Stiles’ neck. Dipping his head and inhaling deeply.

“Welcome to the pack, Stiles,” Derek said as he leaned in and gave Stiles a gentle kiss on the lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this because I was listening to a podfic where, as frequently happens, Stiles was being a stubborn shit and not listening.
> 
> I think a part of me will never understand the fics where Stiles is pack (or becomes pack) by virtue of being super critical of Derek and, essentially, not accepting him as alpha. Or only accepts Derek after he molds him into the alpha he thinks Derek should be.
> 
> Don't get me wrong, a bunch of those stories are in my favs list and I'd rec them in a heartbeat. But they just don't make *sense* to me.
> 
> This probably won't be the last story I write or post on this theme because, well, I keep imagining various scenarios.


End file.
